


Same Old Love

by cecylia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ??? - Freeform, ?????, Alcoholic Dean, Angry Dean, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Castiel, But not really hahahah, Depressed Dean, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Human Castiel, Hunter Dean, Hunter Sam, I'm Sorry Castiel, I'm Sorry Dean, I'm still debating on the ending, Internalized Homophobia, Maybe - Freeform, Sexual Content, Sorry Not Sorry, Stoner Castiel, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Top Dean, Trigger Warnings, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecylia/pseuds/cecylia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has become a problem. Ever since his father's death he hasn't been the same and only causes trouble to the already complex Sam, and their two secretive house mates, Benny and Bela. Their newest hunt was supposed to be an improvement, something to help the brothers get through their rough times, but Dean's depression and anger only gets worse, and it seems like the only one to get through him is a stoner named Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Him Live

 

 

 

**Let Him Live**

It was the third time this week where Sam forced himself into a bar because his brother was being a troublemaker by attempting to touch the waitresses, getting into fights, and drinking himself numb. 

“It…was my fault, Sammy.” He’d repeat every time Sam helped him up from the bar stool and dragged him outside into the cool and humid weather of Seattle, Washington. His brother had become a mess in the period since his father’s death but Sam couldn’t understand why he blamed himself. He knew bits of it, but he could never confirm anything and their flat mates, didn’t really help. 

Whenever he’d drive him back, he’d fall asleep on the seat, making it seem as if nothing happened, as if a drunken Dean hadn’t cried in front of him and asked him to leave him behind so that he could make his life without him. 

At that point, Sam knew those words by memory, he’d say them whenever he was drunk, and despite the situation and all the trouble Dean would get him into, he could never do as his brother asked. It was heartbreaking and he knew that his father, whether he was in heaven or hell, would shake his head in disagreement. 

The routine had turned into a habit. He’d go over to Dean’s side and open the door of the Impala, only so that Dean could fall over and vomit his stomach out. After that he’d lean against the waxed paint job of his Baby and admire it for a few seconds before raising his hand so that Sam could help him stand. Sam would struggle for a good two minutes with Dean refusing to cooperate and lighten himself before he finally got a good grip at his brother’s waist and brought him up. Dean would drag his feet, the strong stench of alcohol and cologne continuing to be bothersome to Sam before he dropped Dean to the side so that he was able to get his keys out of his pocket.

He noticed that Bela and Benny’s car was in the driveway, every time he told them that he was going to pick Dean up from a bar, they’d return from where they were to help Sam with the worsening Dean. 

Before he could twist his key, the door opened and Bela greeted them with a frown, mostly aimed at a regretful-looking Dean. He might’ve looked that way to them, but Sam knew that inside, Dean felt _nothing_. 

“Did he get into a fight?” Bela would ask even though she already knew the answer. Dean always got into fights for one reason or another. When Dean said he would go out, they knew what to expect but acted as if they didn’t so that their disappointment on the man would hit him like a bucket of ice water. It never did. 

She saw the bruises on his neck and his bloodied knuckles. “It’s always like this.” She’d mumble to herself, thinking that Sam wouldn’t hear her but he did. Bela called for Benny and the grumpy-looking man showed up with a cup of coffee, originally made for himself but once he saw Dean, he handed the cup to him. 

It’d become pitiful to watch Dean destroy himself at least three times a week, Sam grudged him for that. In the beginning he didn’t mind it, it was obvious why his brother would do stupidities like that, but a year had already passed since John, and instead of improving, Dean only deteriorated. While Sam moved on, Dean only held on tighter to his past and damaged himself even more. 

“I want to die…” Dean whispered to Sam when he attempted once more to get Dean up. It was like teaching a child how to walk. 

“I know you do.” Sam responded, gesturing at Bela to grab his arm. 

“So kill me.” He had a smile when he said that, almost as if he were expecting it Sam to actually do it. Nobody knew Sam better than Dean and the only reason he said it, was because Sam, at one point since John’s death, had been tempted. 

“I’m not going to, Dean. You’re my brother and I care about you.” They managed to get him inside, it was little but it was progress.  

Dean shook his head and leaned against the wall, “No…you don’t. I ruined your life in the same way John destroyed mine. I…murdered you…like John did to me.” Hearing Dean say that felt pathetic, his brother would never put John so low, even if John did that to him before he died. Sure, in order to properly care for an increasingly devastated Dean, Sam had to leave Stanford because if it wasn’t him, then who else would care for him? 

Sure, there was Benny and Bela, but they had a life of their own. They were fully capable for watching over Dean, but they wouldn’t be as attentive as Sam was and he would become an even bigger problem to them, then he ever was to Sam. 

“Benny.” Bela called for the big man and he walked to them, “Could you take Dean to his bed and make sure he doesn’t puke on himself?”

Benny nodded and wrapped a hand around Dean’s waist, holding a disgraceful Dean against his side like nothing and slowly leading him to his bedroom. 

Bela sighed, “Man, don’t you miss the old Dean?” She placed her hands on her waist, “It was good times when he wasn’t _this_.”

“John did that.” Sam smiled at her, walking to the sofa so that he was able to sit. The day had been long but Dean made it longer. 

“John was a dick.”

He shrugged, “He was a good dad. Strict, but good. But then Dean came out to him and the whole family bond, if you could call it that, went to complete shit.” He paused to rub his temples. Remembering the strong words Dean and John threw at each other was mentally painful. “John wasn’t against gay people, he cared very little about those things, but he didn’t want us to be like them. He always said how weird it’d be if one of us showed up one day with a boyfriend, unaware of what Dean did behind his back. That sort of thing affected Dean tremendously so he always kept it hidden, until one day he didn’t and well, look at the outcome.”

“And look at what that did to him.” She sat next to Sam, “Look at what that did to you.”

“I don’t mind it now,” he lied, “I mean, what else was I supposed to do? Let Dean rot in his own self-loathing? If I hadn’t come back to him in time, he probably would’ve risked his own life to prove his unworthiness. He doesn’t realize how much he affects people around him or himself, that’s why he does the bullshit he does.”

“Well, all that bullshit is draining as hell.” She ran her hand through her long, dark brown hair.

“I’ve managed to put up with it for years. Even before John. It was just as exhausting.” His eyes met Bela’s, Sam’s beautiful shade of hazel with her mesmerizing green ones. At that moment, he hoped that his feelings for her wouldn’t burst out in an embarrassing way. He’d keep them hidden until the time was right, and a drunk Dean night was not it. 

Benny walked in to their scene, spoiling whatever one-sided tension Sam felt then. “Dean fell asleep as soon as he made contact with the mattress.”

“Did he throw up?”

“Almost did on himself and I but gladly, I got him to the bathroom before he did.” He smiled proudly, the sweet smile spreading on his lips seeming unfitting for such a big, bearded man like him. “Seriously though, what is up with your brother? I thought he was improving with the whole therapy thing you mentioned.”

“I thought so too until I found out he wasn’t going at all.” He was disappointed to find Dean outside of bar, sitting against the wall, with an empty bottle of beer on one hand and his cell phone on the other while he was heading to pick him up. Sam understood at that moment that Dean was going to be much difficult than he expected. 

Benny frowned and shook his head, “I think the only way to help you brother is by tying his hands behind his back and lock him inside his room until he recuperates.”

“You think I haven’t thought about that? Dean is too smart and he’d find a way out of a windowless room in less than two hours. John’s training really served him for that type of situation.” They spent a ridiculous amount of their lives training to be warriors that both brothers barely had a life outside of it. 

“Why don’t you take him on a hunt?” Bela suggested. “I know you’ve been out of the business for a while but I think it’d help Dean, hunting with you again like you used to. It may not be fully functional but hey, worth a shot. You might even get him to smile again.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, Sam!” Benny smiled widely again, “We could come with you if you’d like, too. It’d be nice to have the old Dean back, even if it’s for a while and I’d like to witness it.” 

Sam thought about it momentarily. Their idea wasn’t bad. Dean enjoyed hunting, he proved it every time they used to go on a hunt with their father. He was born for that stuff, regardless of some of the scarring things it put him through. “I don’t know…it’s good but, I’m not sure if that would really help. Dean does this all the time. His recent hunt was when? A week ago? I highly doubt that hunting with me would change anything.”

“You don’t know that until you’ve tried it, man.” Benny interfered. “Think about it, Dean hunting with you like you used to could do you both some good. It’ll make him nostalgic. You could also use that time to figure out what’s going on through that hard head of his.”

“Even if I did agree to this, how long before we find a case? One that’s worth out attention and time?”

Bela stood up, “Way ahead of you on that one.” She disappeared to the kitchen and came back a minute later carrying three folders on her hands and holding on to loose sheets so that they wouldn’t fall. “It’s nearby, about an hour drive, to a small town where there’s been vampire attacks.”

“Vampire attacks? Seems simple.”

She smirked, “The two previous hunters that went there also said the same thing before they were killed.”

“Oh.” Sam took one of the folders from Bela’s hands, it was thick with information and notes. “Does it attack a specific audience?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. So far the victims have been a cop, a high school teacher, a firefighter, a retail worker, and the two hunters.” She placed the remaining folders on top of the coffee table, “Benny said something about all of them being ex addicts to different drugs or activities.”

“It’s probably the therapist.” Sam joked. 

“Doubt it. She had a close encounter with the vampire. Luckily she survived it because a local group therapy for PTSD patients was ending so they managed to save her.” Benny opened another folder, “The vampire is sloppy with his tracks but somehow, he’s managed to stay free of hunter hands. He’s probably super old and experienced.”

Sam sighed, this was a really good idea, a little choppy, but it was good and it could work as well as they made it seem. Dean loved hunting, he remembered hearing that every time they talked about it but he didn’t think that going with him would make a difference. 

Dean was too deep into his depression void that he doubted that a hunt with him would pull him out. He was heavily considering though bringing Bela and Benny with them if he agreed to go with it. 

“What do you say, Sam?” Bela asked.

“Where is it?”

“A small town called…” She moved a few papers around to expose a map of Oregon and pointed inside a red circle made with marker, “Sherwood, Oregon.”

“Okay.” He sighed again, everything he needed was right there, all he had to do was agree with Dean to go. “I’ll take it. Just give me some time to talk to Dean and hopefully, if he’s not too hungover, he’ll agree.”

“I hope he takes it. I’d like to see his face when he hears that you’re going with him. Dean needs this kind of comfort before he falls deeper into his depression. Every day it gets worse, and if we don’t do anything about it, he’ll reach a place where he can’t come out.” Bela smiled and patted Sam’s shoulder. “If you tell him early in the morning, please wake me up, I’d like to see everything in action.”

Benny stood up with Bela, “Do the same with me, brother. It’d be nice to see a different reaction out of Dean besides a frown, he’s worse than the Twilight cast.” He joked and it got a small chuckle out of Sam. Benny was a likeable guy, it was hard to imagine him dealing with Dean so easily. 

It was hard to imagine anyone actually, but Sam was sure that there had to be someone out there who could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think! This idea was based off a dream and I'm curious as to how I'll handle it.


	2. He's Addicted

**He’s Addicted**

Dean was not up for the idea of a hunt thanks to his hangover. He groaned and whined for a while, throwing cusses at his friends for even approaching him during such a distressful time and continued to complain as they insisted. 

“It’ll be good!” Bela said cheerfully.

“That’s what you said about decorating the living room and it still looks like shit.” Dean covered his eyes from the morning light that gave life to their usually dead kitchen. To him, it felt like taking a knife to the forehead.

“Okay, _ouch_ , douche pants.” She scoffed, “Have you met yourself, Dean? You’re a piece of shit. Nobody likes being around you for longer than five minutes and you know it, you just won’t admit it to yourself.”

“Honestly, I don’t care what others think about me.”

Sam intervened, “You wouldn’t say that if dad were still here.”

Dean stopped massaging his temples and his green eyes burned a hole into Sam’s head. They all knew that John was not a topic to touch around Dean. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sam, so shut your mouth before I get violent with you.”

He scoffed, “More than you already are?” He rolled his eyes, “I highly doubt that. Seriously, Dean? You’re a pain to be around, anyone who says otherwise is a liar. I wanted to do this hunt for both us and maybe Bela and Benny if they want to go too. It’s clear that you don’t want to do it, but at least consider it. Think about all the lives we would save from this thing.”

“Do you even have a goddamn case?”

Benny placed a set of folders in front of Dean, “There’s been several vampire attacks in Sherwood, Oregon.”

“A vampire? You don’t need me to take care of that. You guys are just being lazy, do that yourselves…” He covered his face with his hands and a groaned at his growing headache. The three friends wished they could do something about it but coming close to Dean when he was feeling that way was a danger to them physically and mentally. They had too many memories of Dean being even shittier with a headache. 

“We’re doing this together, Dean. Like when we were younger—”

“Like before you abandoned us?” Dean interrupted as Sam was waiting so that he could make a rude remark that would hurt him. He didn’t understand why John and Dean made it their business to make him feel terrible for choosing college over monsters. 

“I didn’t…” He did, “Look, just agree to do this, it won’t hurt us and it’ll be over within a week, maybe much less depending on how much effort you put. Bela’s right, Dean, you’re kind of a piece of shit. You’re intolerable when you’re sober, you’re even worse when you’re not and you’re a nastily pale from sleeping in during the day and going out at night.” He patted Dean’s back, which he quickly regretted when Dean glared at him, “You just need to go out, man.”

“I do go out.”

“Oh yeah? Like what, twice a month for a hunt? The only time you actually go out for yourself is to get laid or drink yourself senseless. Hunting together again could be therapeutic for both of us. You need this, Dean.”

“I don’t, okay? I’m fine and I’m feeling great.” He stood up, clumsily hitting Benny on the shoulder from stumbling on nothing. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sleep. Waking up this early was a mistake. If you guys make anything to eat, save me something, I don’t think I’ll be awake for the next eight hours.” Dean moved past Bela and Benny and started towards his room. 

“Dean, please do this for me.” Sam tried to reach for him, but Dean avoided contact when Sam was close enough, “It’ll be great! I know it’s been long and difficult since John, but it’s helpful! We don’t even have to do research, Benny and Bela already have everything for us, we just have to show up!” 

Dean sighed, “I don’t want to go. This is a terrible case that a junior hunter could deal with, I don’t see why we have to. If you want to recover the lost time together, get a better case. Something dealing with a witch werewolf or something.” He paused and chuckled. “A bitch.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and his brother’s terrible attempt at comedy, “Two hunters have died from this case.”

“Maybe they weren’t trying hard enough. Awful hunters are everywhere.”

“Okay, Dean, stop.” Sam grabbed his brother’s shoulders, “Do you have any idea how whiny you sound? Dude, you’re twenty-eight and are acting like you’re thirteen and mom didn’t let you see your boyfriend after dinner like she said she would. You’re a grown ass man, start thinking like one again. There are people dying out there, ex addicts that have been sucked dry to be some vampire’s food for the night. It doesn’t matter if you don’t give a shit about anyone, but do this for me. Even if you’re forcing yourself, at least, at least try.”

Dean stared at Sam for a while, clearly thinking but the younger Winchester didn’t know if it was over what he said or something else. It was hard to read Dean’s expression, since it hardly changed anymore since John died, it was incredibly frustrating. “Fine.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You won’t regret it Dean.” Sam would’ve hugged his brother if it didn’t make him uncomfortable. “Who knows, you might even meet someone there. I’m sure there’s plenty of guys—”

“ _Women_.” Dean corrected too quickly it hurt Sam to hear him. He could feel the pain in his voice as he forced it. “I like women.”

“Dean.”

“I do, Sam.”

“No, you don’t. You only do because it’s what dad would’ve wanted.” Sam didn’t like to hit Dean with the cold truth but it was the only thing he was capable of. Dean’s sexual repression was one of the many things that harmed him emotionally. 

“Stop bringing dad into this.” Dean scolded. “My sexuality is none of your business. If I messed around with men before it’s because I was young and I didn’t know what I wanted. Now I do, and its girls.”

“You were twenty six when you came out to dad, you wouldn’t have if it were otherwise. He’s not here anymore, you can stop pretending. That’s the thing that’s holding you back and turning you into a toxic person.”

“You know why dad isn’t here anymore? Because I was angry and my pride got the best of me. All because I wanted to be with some stupid guy. Dad is dead and it’s all my fault, you know it’s true.” He snatched his arm away from Sam’s grip, “If you could leave me alone, that would be great. I’ll wake up early tomorrow so that we could get going. Honestly, I’m tired of having these type of discussions with you.”

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

It was one of the few days that Sam was allowed to drive the Impala. Dean was too tired and was recovering from a headache after an all-nighter of watching True Blood and chugging a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream because Sam didn’t let him out of the house to go to a bar. 

“What time is it?”

“It’s twelve.” They departed at nine. “Have you taken any Aspirin? You can’t be your normal self when facing the witnesses.” 

“I’ve taken four and it hasn’t done shit.”

“Well, you can pretend, right?”

Dean nodded, “I do it all the time.” He sat up straight, stretching on his seat, clearly still tired from the night before. “Anything new happen at Sherwood since the last time a hunter went there?”

“Four murders. All different types of addicts. Cocaine, meth, and two sex.”

“You think he’s eliminating them for a reason?” Dean pulled the files from under his seat and opened one of them. “They all have a record, three of domestic abuse, and one of assault. The others, including one of the hunters, had something similar. One had murder.”

“So the vamp is targeting criminals slash ex-druggies?”

“Why not target regular druggies, not the ones who’re recovering?” It made Sam happy that Dean sounded interested. “I mean, it’s much easier, no? All the others were in therapy either willingly or because they had to.”

“What about the hunters?”

“Well, Maverick Chase, I think, used to go to therapy for his coke addiction and alcoholism. The other one, Casey Ridley, had a pretty clean record except for jaywalking.” Dean looked through some papers. “I don’t know about you man, but I think the vampire is inside the group therapies.”

“That’s actually very good.”

“Alright,” Dean smiled to himself, “I’m in charge of the sex therapy group.”

“Maybe that could be of use to you.”

“I don’t have a sex addiction but I do like to be the cause of it.”

“No, but you do suffer of alcoholism and there’s a very large group for that. You should go to it while we investigate.” Sam smiled, hopeful that Dean would agree with him and gladly go but he was disappointed when Dean frowned. 

“Nuh-uh. There’s no way in hell I’ll go to one of those. I’m not an alcoholic, Sam. I’m fine, I don’t know how many times I have to repeat that.”

Sam shook his head, “Again, you’re not fine. I live with you Dean and you do a lot of stupid things, mostly because you’re drunk.”

“I’m still not going to one of those, I don’t care what you think or say. It’s my life and I choose to do whatever the hell I want with it. Therapy is not it.”

“You might change your mind because we both need to analyze the people going into these therapies and the therapists. They might say something in there to encourage you to go.”

Dean raised a hand, “Stop.” He said, “I’m not going to therapy. That’s final. I feel great and I don’t need some bullshit doctor to tell me otherwise.”

“Okay, whatever you say, but I know what I see, Dean.” Sam parked the car when he saw a crowd and police cars standing outside an apartment building. “There it is.”

“I can see that.” Dean mumbled as he put away the folders where he found them. 

They stepped out of the Impala, locking it before they shut the doors, and headed towards the police officer that approached them questioningly. She fixed her glasses to get a better look at them and asked, “Can I help you?”

Almost like a routine, they pulled out their badges from inside their jackets and Dean introduced them, “Special Agent Stark and Banner.”

“Sheriff Jodi Mills.”

“We’re here about the attacks that have been reported recently.”

She chuckled in disbelief, “You couldn’t have come four people earlier. These murders have been lowering the tourism and the negativity.”

“Well, they’re murders so what do you expect.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, boy.” Jodi snapped at Dean. “Anyways, the recent kill was this guy over here.” She pointed at the ambulance that was ready to get going, “Another guy found him in his apartment and said that there wasn’t a trace of blood around just traces of the drug the kid was going to therapy for.” 

“Can you point at the witness?”

“No, he left around five minutes before you guys arrived. I could give you his name, though. He’s popular around here, so he should be easy to find.”

Sam smiled at her, glad that the pieces were easier to connect than he expected, “That would be great, thank you.”

She returned the gesture to the kind looking Sam. Despite his intimidating height, he looked like a teddy bear with a smile as bright as the one he wore, “His name is Castiel Novak. He owns an antique store slash café about seven blocks away from here called Free Will.” 

Dean nodded and pulled Sam to the side, away from Jodi, who immediately found someone else to talk to while the brothers consulted in private, “So how do you want to do this?”

Sam shrugged, “I wanted to check out the crime scene, pick out clues, and later, the body; I really find this interesting. I thought maybe you would like to interview the witness but if you want to switch it, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I’ll take the witness. I’m not in the mood to be dealing with drugs and a dead dude. Plus, I want breakfast, you starved me.”

“Okay, just check in with me when you’re done and if you’re done early, get us a hotel room. You can do that, right?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean dismissed it. Sam was aware that his brother knew the routine but he needed to make sure in case, by any chance, he forgot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's given this story a chance. I know that an unhappy ending isn't everyone's cup of tea but good news: I am actually considering in making a sequel, but nothing official yet, because I wanted to give Dean and Cas the happiness they deserve. Also, I got this neat idea that I wanted to try out so I'll keep you updated on that :). Again thank you to everyone who has given this story a chance, I cannot thank you enough. Please tell me what you think!


	3. When He Gave In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think!

**3\. When He Gave In**

Dean wasn’t sure how long it took him to find the antique store the sheriff talked about, but he was glad when he spotted it. It was in between a flower shop and an Italian restaurant with an unpronounceable name. 

 _Free Will_ read in big, cursive letters on the darkened windows and on the green door’s glass. The sigh alone gave Dean a weird hipster guy and he couldn’t wait to meet the so-called owner, Castiel. 

He bet the guy looked exactly like the ones television depicted, with the long hair tied up in a messy ‘man bun’—it made him wonder how many days he’d gone without showering to keep that shit in place—underneath a stinky beanie. And don’t even get him started on the clothes…Dean shivered at the thought. 

The door had a sign that said ‘ _Sorry, We’re Closed_ ’, written in metallic blue marker, but Dean ignored it and opened the door anyways, ringing the small bell hanging on top of it. He could hear movement on the other side so that gave him a green light to continue his job the right way. 

The scent was a game changer when he breathed it in and the image he had of the place changed completely from what he originally had in mind. It was a mix of fresh brewed coffee and steaming, vanilla and almond milk. Dean probably would’ve followed it if there weren’t so many shelves and stacks of books getting in his way. 

On the other side of the store was a counter and a few tables, the whole imagery of a messy library cleared up to reveal the café part of the shop. There was glass counter that displayed many pastries and kept the coffee machine hidden from any curious eyes that wondered beyond their boundaries. 

He didn’t find the owner anywhere so he leaned against one of the small, circular tables and took a good look of the store. 

It was dark, with a few lights giving it the life it deserved. The type of lighting made it look more like an old bar than its intended purpose. The music didn’t help the environment either, it was an odd yet enjoyable combination between pop, indie, and electronic, a new low in music that Dean never thought he’d be alive to listen to. 

“Hey, man, I don’t know if you’re stupid or illiterate…” A voice spoke from behind the counter, Dean hadn’t seen the person come out, “But the sign outside says that we’re closed.”

Dean’s eyes met a pair of unknown blue ones. He always thought that he had a unique shade of eye color, but the ones looking at him were ahead of that. Dean straightened himself to answer, “I’m neither, and I’m just here for business.”

“Hmm, I beg to differ but anyways…what business is that?”

He pulled out his FBI badge from his jacket and showed it to the dark haired beauty that waited for his name, “I’m special agent, Freddie Stark, FBI.”

“Castiel Novak.” The man introduced himself and leaned over the counter to grab the badge from Dean’s fingertips and examine the identification that he showed. It was difficult to tell the fakeness of the badges so he was sure that—“Are you here about the murder, Mister Stark?”

Dean nodded, “Did you know the guy?”

“We had therapy at the same time. His room was across the hall from mine so we would always agree to have lunch together with every meetup.”

“What was he addicted to?”

“Cocaine.”

“And you?”

“Sex.” Castiel’s lips curled into a devious smile and his eyes left whatever he was doing with the coffee machine to look at a chuckling Dean. “Amongst other things. But sex was my main one. The only one I couldn’t properly control, you could say.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. But unlike him, I couldn’t leave what I loved doing. I just learned how to handle it better.”

Dean’s mouth went dry, it was as if the setting of the room crumbled around to suffocate him, “What was his name?” As much as he wanted to touch up on the gentleman’s former ‘addiction’, he ended up with the intended topic. 

“Kyler Moon.” Castiel paused, “Would you like some coffee, Mister Stark?”

“You don’t seem bothered at all about your discovery. And no thank you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve seen in my life, really.” He turned around to open the cabinet behind him and took down a coffee mug and two silver containers. “I don’t think he deserved it, though. He was trying so hard to leave it and then he didn’t. He couldn’t, I guess.”

“Did you find anything weird in his apartment?”

“No, except for the bag of cocaine, which was too much. It made me wonder if he kept that hidden.” Cas took his cup and a small bag of cookies from a bin and walked to the table where Dean was at, “Would you like anything, Mister Stark?”

“You can call me Dea—Freddie.” He didn’t know what it was about this man that was making him mindless, but he didn’t like it and he wanted it to stop soon. “Do you have pie? I could use some of that now.”

Castiel set down his things and moved to a small fridge by the counter. “Pie doesn’t sell very well around here so I apologize for the lack of varieties. I only have chocolate. Is that alright?”

“That’s fine.” Dean assured. 

“So is your name really Freddie Stark? You don’t seem like one.” He placed a small plate with two slices of chocolate pie on top. It brought back the life that Dean felt he’d lost when he dealt with the case. “I’ve met several Freddie’s before and I would’ve kept them if they looked anywhere near you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“For you…” Castiel’s eyes moved up and down Dean’s posture, “Mmmm, it’s very good, sugar.” He stood next to Dean, offering him the plate of pie he had asked for, but Dean realized that what he wanted wasn’t the pie anymore. 

“You flirting with me?” He asked quietly, not because he was embarrassed of his question but of what Castiel might say. Not that he cared…well, he did, he could feel his curiosity scratching him inside, wondering where he might take it with the man in front of him. 

“Depends…would you be interested?”

“You just saw a dead body. Aren’t you remotely shaken?”

“Like I said, it wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve seen in my lifetime. But if you want me to play the role, then yeah, sure, I’m traumatized and I would like to do something to keep my mind away from it. Would you like to help?”

“Look, man, um, I don’t think this could be good. I mean—I don’t roll that way.” He lied. It had been a necessary thing before but Castiel made him feel different. Especially because he was used to being the one to put out the moves, not the other way around. 

“Would you like to? Just for tonight?” Castiel was leaning too close, making Dean’s heartbeat rise, with his subconscious yelling at him to do something about it, to do what he was best in and have a good time. 

“No, no thank you.”

“Pity.” Cas caressed Dean’s chin, “I would’ve loved to have a piece of you.” He backed away, making it seem as if he didn’t approach Dean in the first place, “If you change your mind, come by later tonight. I’ll be having visits for the next few hours so, even if you did want to, you’d have to wait.”

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asked from the bed next to his, “Did the witness tell you anything. You haven’t said a word since I got here, not even to decide what you wanted for dinner.”

“It’s nothing.”

“If it really were nothing, you wouldn’t be so quiet. You’re usually bitching about your problems, expecting a solution right away. But not this time, so I definitely know something’s up.” Sam joked but Dean didn’t laugh, his face didn’t even change. 

“Leave it alone, it doesn’t matter.” Dean dismissed Sam’s attempts and continues to think privately. He couldn’t’ stop thinking about the witness Castiel, about his proposal. Maybe he’d take it, he was tempted…and horny. 

Castiel was a witness, a promiscuous one apparently, the usual targets for Dean’s sex drive, so he couldn’t believe he was hesitating about it so much. He was used to working for it, it never gifted itself to him and now that it had, now that Castiel had opened his door for him and invited him over for later, he didn’t know if it was what he really wanted. 

“You sure you’re okay, man?” Sam continued to ask, expecting an answer from Dean but still getting nothing. 

“I need to go out.” His mind had grounded itself and decided what was best for Dean. He was gonna sleep with Castiel because he wanted it, and because it was becoming tougher to think with the unrequited proposal hanging by a thread. 

“No, no, no. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the witness said.” Sam placed a threatening hand in front of his preparing brother, ready to fight him if he didn’t comply with his demands. “I want to solve this as soon as possible and I can’t do it if you don’t help out. Well, I can, actually, but it’ll ruin the whole purpose of us being here.”

Dean rubbed his eyes is irritation. “The kid’s name was Kyler Moon or something—”

“Yeah, Sheriff Mills told me.”

“Whatever, the witness, Castiel, knew the guy because they were friends and said something about Kyler trying really hard to get back on track but, in the end, couldn’t.”

“Was that Castiel an addict as well?”

“Yeah, but a sex one.”

“Oh?” Sam raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Is that why you want to leave?” The younger brother frowned, “Come on, Dean, this is a little more important than your sexual urges. Can’t you wait until we’re done?”

“You said it yourself, Sammy. My urges.”

He crossed his arms, “I thought you weren’t into guys.”

Sam got him there and Dean felt cornered. “Sometimes I make exceptions. But that’s none of your business. You know what you should do? Get a life. Stop monitoring my every move, because it doesn’t matter. Instead of worrying about what I’m doing, you should find yourself a girlfriend.”

“I’m working up the courage to talk to Bela, she’s a longtime friend and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Bela is dating Benny.” It hurt him to slap his little brother with the old truth of what he’d seen and heard, but he couldn’t let him continue to play a game he had no chance of winning.

“ _What_?” 

“It's so goddamn obvious that they’re fucking each other behind closed doors, you’re just too caught up inside your head and with my problems to notice it.” Dean moved past Sam and grabbed his jacket, “Get a life, little brother, you deserve one.” And just like that, he was gone.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

He couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of Castiel’s store in the rain, hoping that he might’ve heard the knock through the loud thunder and lightning. 

Thankfully, he had, and Castiel, his hair messier than when he’d first met him, opened the door and a smile grew on his light pink lips. “So you did change your mind.”

“Let’s just get to it.”

Castiel bit his bottom lip and pulled Dean inside his warm store, the rain made him sensitive to the temperature surrounding him, to the one that Cas radiated onto him. “We can do it however you want, sweetheart, I don’t care I just want to have you.” He pressed himself against Dean, not caring that he might get his clothes wet. It was actually a bit of a turn on and from the closeness, he was sure Castiel could feel it. 

“Goddamn it.” Dean couldn’t take it anymore so he wrapped his hand around Cas’ waist and carried him so that their lips could meet. 


End file.
